Tired
by TheConsultingOtter
Summary: A particularly trying case means that Sherlock and John get almost no sleep at all for six days, which leads to them ending up in bed together. My summaries suck, fluff with johnlock in later chapters. Rating may change
1. Sleepy

**I'm back! I am really really sorry for abandoning all of my fics for so long but it's been really stressful recently with billions of exams and coursework deadlines so I haven't really had the time to write so here's a fairly long one to make up! Un Beta-d so please point out any mistakes if you spot them.**

**Pairing - Johnlock**

**Words – about 1300**

* * *

Tiredness filled John's bones, dragging his mind away from where he was standing and pulling his eyelids closed as he fought to stay conscious. Sherlock was currently bickering with Lestrade over something or other; probably about withholding evidence or something equally as Sherlock-y. John couldn't remember what it was Sherlock had done this time nor did he care that much. He just wanted to go home to his bed, crawl under the covers and not emerge for a few days.

The case had been a particularly trying one; taking Sherlock almost a week to solve. The only sleep John had gotten over the course of the entire case was when he drifted off in cabs or in the lab, only to be rudely awakened by Sherlock to be dragged off around London somewhere. It must have added up to under four hours sleep in six days. The case was solved now and all John wanted to do was sleep. Then have tea. Then eat. Then have a shower. Not necessarily in that order.

Even Sherlock was starting to look a little tired after only getting sleep when he occasionally simply passed out in a taxi. As soon as the taxi stopped however, Sherlock would bounce out of it and act as if he had never been asleep.

John could barely keep his eyes open, let alone remain standing. Just as he reasoned that the pavement actually looked quite comfortable, an arm wound its way round his waist from behind, half holding him up before he could collapse.

"We're leaving now, come on," Sherlock's baritone voice rumbled in his ear.

John mumbled something incoherent and Sherlock smirked. He threw Johns arm over his shoulder and tightened the arm around his waist so he could drag him to the main road. John barely noticed as Sherlock hailed a cab and lifted him inside. He slumped into Sherlock's side and his head rested on his shoulder as she was finally allowed to drift off.

* * *

John's eyes flickered open, the room was dark but a small stream of sunlight was filtering in through the crack in the curtains. He didn't have a clue where he was; he was lying, fully clothed in a bed but this wasn't his bed and certainly wasn't his room. He didn't have a copy of the periodic table framed on his wall. He could hear deep breathing to his left and became very aware of the warm body pressed up against his, an arm flung lazily around his waist and the head on his shoulder, mass of dark curly hair tickling his neck. So he was in Sherlock's bed _with_ Sherlock. Right. People would definitely talk if they found out about this. This would _not _be included in the write up of the case in his blog.

However wrong it _should _have felt to be curled up with his flatmate in bed, it actually felt quite nice. As soon as that thought arose John tried to push it back down. He wasn't gay. He was simply tired and Sherlock was warm next to him. He was most definitely _not_ gay.

Tea. That was what John needed right now. Tea. He tried to get up without jostling the bed and waking Sherlock but he had barely moved at all when he was pulled back by surprisingly strong arms and found his chest covered by floppy dark curls as Sherlock's head shifted from his shoulder to his chest, locking him in a vice like grip.

"Sherlock" He murmured softly. "Sherlock, c'mon get off me,"

"Stop moving and shut up, I'm sleeping" Sherlock mumbled into John's shirt, tightening his arms around him. John smirked at his possessiveness and tried again to loosen his grip.

"Come on Sherlock, let me up,"

"No."

"Sherlock," John sighed exasperatedly.

"No. You're warm." John rolled his eyes.

"Yes and I also need a cup of tea and a shower,"

Sherlock didn't even bother replying to that, merely making some sort of unintelligible mumble to show his displeasure at this. John rolled his eyes once again.

"What time is it?" When Sherlock didn't respond John reached for the phone on the bedside table next to him and instantly regretted it as the screen lit up and blinded his tired eyes.

"Sherlock, it's half past three in the afternoon! What time did we get back?" John was answered by the soft sound of Sherlock's slow, deep breathing which told him that he had fallen asleep again. Not surprising really, he must have had less than two hours sleep in the past six days. John sighed and sank back down into the pillows. He could stay in bed a little longer.

* * *

It was quarter past four when John finally disentangled himself from Sherlock and went to have a shower. By the time he emerged Sherlock was sprawled in a chair at the dining table eating his way through three slices of toast. An empty mug of tea and several yogurt pots were already littering the table around him.

"Did you eat _at all_ during the case, Sherlock?"

"What? No. Yes. Umm, you made me eat that toast on Tuesday and those biscuits on Friday,"

"You went for _six days_ on a slice of toast and two biscuits? No wonder you're hungry,"

"Digesting slows me down."

"No it doesn't, Sherlock. Passing out from hunger or tiredness slows you down. What time did we get back last night?"

"About half past four in the morning,"

John nodded, he didn't quite know what to ask about why he woke up cuddling with Sherlock and didn't have a clue what to expect. He decided not to beat about the bush at to just say it.

"Why did I wake up with you in your bed this morning, Sherlock?"

"Technically it was already afternoon by the time-"

"Why was I in your bed?" John cut across him.

"You were heavy." Sherlock shrugged and went back to munching.

"What?"

"Well I was hardly going to carry you up another flight of stairs to get to your bedroom was I?"

"You could have just dumped me on the sofa or something instead of sleeping practically on top of me,"

"It hurts your shoulder and you complain when I let you fall asleep on the sofa. Putting you in my bed was the only logical solution. I was tired too though and my bed is much more comfortable than the sofa."

John was touched by the gesture, Sherlock didn't usually care about other people or what impact his actions might make unless it was for a case."Right, well, thanks," Sherlock just nodded in response and continued eating his toast. "Would you at least eat something healthy?"

"I am eating, am I not?"

"Well, yes,"

"Which is more than I normally do,"

"Sherlock you have to eat more healthily. You just need to eat more to start with but when you do eat you actually need to be taking care of your body," Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Transport, John, I-"

"Just eat this," John tossed an apple to Sherlock, who caught it without even looking up. John snatched a piece of toast from Sherlock's plate and sat down opposite him.

"So what actually happened yesterday?"

"You weren't really much help,"

"I hadn't slept in three days."

"Yes, and?"

"And normal people need to sleep more than two hours every three days,"

"Dull."

John didn't even bother arguing with the detective, he would never manage to convince him that normal people needed at least six hours of sleep a day, and that he was one of those normal people.

They sat in a comfortable silence for the rest of breakfast, after waking up how they did it should have felt awkward between them but it didn't. It felt somehow right. John hadn't had a better night's sleep in years. He felt so content with Sherlock's arms around him, drifting between sleep and wakefulness. His bed seemed rather cold and empty by comparison.

* * *

**So I really don't know how to end chapters. Again I'm sorry for the haitus but I've finished all of my exams and I only have one coursework deadline left which I have finished everything for so I have much more time now and I have lots of fic ideas so I should be uploading a bit more frequently. I've been quite worried about uploading this one because I quite like it but I'm not actually sure if it's any good or not which is why it has been sitting on my laptop being edited far more than it normally would have. Reviews would be lovely :3**


	2. Heavy

**What's that? Is that Kerry uploading two chapters in less than 24 hours? This one is basically the first bit of the first chapter but from Sherlock's POV just to explain what happened a bit more than Sherlock did, it's only the first part though so it's fairly short. Un beta-d so please point out any mistakes :)**

**Words – about 500**

Sherlock had just spent six days solving a case and another day tracking down and catching the serial killer Scotland Yard had been looking for, for a month, and the thanks he gets? Lestrade lecturing him about withholding evidence and going off to catch the killer without telling them the whole plan. It wasn't his fault the whole of Scotland yard were idiots and would have ruined his plan.

Out of the corner of his eye Sherlock could see John standing on the pavement, swaying on the spot slightly. Sherlock hadn't let him sleep at all over the last six days, only allowing him to drift off when they were in the lab and he wasn't being very helpful anyway and it was showing. Sherlock gave him about four minutes before he passed out from tiredness.

"If you're quite finished, Lestrade, I did just catch you a serial killer and I would rather like to get home before John passes out."

"Fine, but I'm going to need you in at some point to go through the paperwork,"

"Can't you-"

"Seeing as you didn't even tell us what you were going to do, no!"

Sherlock simply glared, turned and stalked away from the inspector. He reached John just as his knees were about to buckle and snaked his arm around his waist from behind, holding him upright.

"We're leaving now, come on,"

Sherlock smirked at the mumbled reply and half dragged him to the main road to hail a cab. He lifted John inside and got in after him. John collapsed into Sherlock's side, his head lolling onto his shoulder.

When they arrived at Baker Street Sherlock tried to nudge John awake but John just flopped down so his head was in Sherlock's lap, still fast asleep. Sherlock smirked, pulled some money out of John's coat pocket and threw it down on the driver's seat so that he could pull John inside.

He fumbled the key from his pocket and unlocked the front door, fingers clumsy with tiredness. After carrying John up the first flight of stairs it was clear that there was no way he was going to make it up the second so Sherlock kicked the door open and pulled John towards his bedroom. John's shoulder always hurt the morning after falling asleep on the sofa, the only logical thing to do was to put John in his bed. It was his way of apologizing for the stressful week.

He dragged John through the kitchen, kicked the door to his bedroom open and practically dropped the doctor onto his bed before pulling off his shoes, dropping them unceremoniously onto the floor. Sherlock couldn't be bothered to change into his pyjamas; six days with no sleep had made his fingers too clumsy to undo the buttons and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed. So he did just that. He kicked off his shoes and flopped down next to John, fully clothed, and pulled the covers over both of them. The warmth radiating from Johns sleeping form next to him was comforting and Sherlock fell asleep almost instantly.

**Thank you for reading! Next chapter should be up soon though I'm not entirely sure when. I'm going to try to update at least once a week unless I write two chapters at once like I did with these two. They will all probably be from John's point of view from now on but I just wanted to explore what actually happened in a bit more detail than Sherlock actually gave John.**

**Reviewers get free kittens!**


	3. For an experiment

**This is the edited and re-uploaded version but still not beta-d.**

**Words: About 1000**

* * *

John kicked the front door shut behind him and proceeded to climb the seventeen steps up to their flat, laden down with enough shopping to last them at least a week, if not two, so long as Sherlock didn't experiment on any of it despite John's 'food is for eating' rule. He staggered into the kitchen and dumped the plastic bags on the table where Sherlock was sitting at his microscope and started unpacking them.

"John I need your help with an experiment," Sherlock said absentmindedly, not looking up from the microscope.

John paused from putting food in cupboards and turned to stare at the back of Sherlock's head warily. Experiments that involved John usually didn't go well for him.

"What _kind _of experiment?" He tried to keep the suspicion out of his voice but failed miserably.

"I want to see how being in the presence of another person affects the quality of sleep," Ah so it was going to be one of _those _experiments.

"So basically you want to sleep in my bed, with me … for science?" John said, rubbing his hand over his eyes in a long suffering manner.

"Exactly," Sherlock looked up from his microscope and turned to face John, "I got a better night's sleep when I shared a bed with you than I have, well, ever, as far as I can remember. So I want to compare the quality of sleep when sleeping in close proximity to another person to sleeping alone to see if there is any scientific evidence that sleeping with a partner is produces a better quality of sleep."

There was a short pause. Sherlock had assumed that John would be fine with this and wasn't even expecting an answer so had turned back to his microscope and was now fiddling with the dials. John, however, looked slightly like a goldfish, opening and closing his mouth until he managed to reconnect his brain to speak properly.

"No,"

"Excuse me?" Sherlock hadn't been expecting John to object to his experiment. It wasn't as if it was going to be a dangerous experiment. It would hardly affect John at all other than the possibility of them both getting a better quality of sleep for the duration of the experiment which would benefit both of them. He could not see any reason at all for John to object.

"I said no, Sherlock. I will not be your lab rat _again_,"

"But it's for science!" Sherlock turned to John and put on what John had called his 'puppy dog eyes' and managing to look like a spoilt child who had just been told he couldn't have the toy he wanted.

"I said no,"

"Please?" Sherlock tried. Using good manners usually turned John into putty in his very capable hands.

"You are not sleeping with me. End of." John turned away from Sherlock to continue putting the shopping away in their various cupboards, concentrating a lot more on the task than was strictly necessary.

"It isn't like you had such a terrible experience last time, John," Sherlock wasn't going to give up that easily.

"Sherlock, I said no and I mean no."

Sherlock opened his mouth to continue his protest but closed it again when he caught sight of Johns withering glare and chose to flounce over to the sofa instead in a dramatic sulk. This wasn't going to be the end of it though. Oh no. Sherlock would get his way no matter what it took.

.oO0Oo.

John made it almost three days before the mention of Sherlock's new experiment again. He knew it was coming; Sherlock would never just give up on trying to get something he wanted that easily. In fact John doubted if he had _ever _given up on trying to get something_._

John had been sitting in his favourite armchair with a cup of tea and a book when Sherlock had burst through the door, dripping wet from the rain. Little droplets of water fell from his sodden hair and coat to pool on the floor around his feet. His already too tight purple shirt was clinging to his chest, outlining every muscle perfectly. John found himself gazing at said chest for rather longer than necessary and ducked his head down to glance at his book, carefully folding down the corner of the worn page and setting it aside before looking up again to the, now pacing, Sherlock.

"Why are you so wet?"

Sherlock turned to look at him, an expression of complete disgust at John's stupidity on his face.

"It's raining, John. Surely even you could have noticed that," John didn't even bother taking offence at this sort of statement anymore and simply rolled his eyes.

"Yes, but why are you so wet? You were in the morgue, it doesn't rain in there. It couldn't have taken you _that_ long to get a taxi, you're dripping!"

"I walked home," Sherlock stated simply, turning back to his pacing.

"You _walked_ home? For god's sake- Sherlock it's over a twenty minute walk and it's tipping it down,"

"I needed to think,"

"You couldn't have done that in the cab?"

"I wanted to walk," Sherlock waved his hand vaguely, still pacing, leaving wet footprints from one end of the room to the other. He was starting to shiver slightly now but was either ignoring it or hadn't noticed how cold he was yet. Probably the latter, knowing Sherlock.

"Yes but you got soaked," John ignored the glare at his obvious statement, "You'll catch a cold,"

"No I won't," Sherlock waved his hand dismissively, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the statement.

"Yes, Sherlock, you will. You aren't superior to the common cold. Especially when you go off gallivanting around London in the pouring rain without an umbrella. Take off your wet clothes and go have a warm shower, you look freezing, I'll make you some tea to warm you up," Sherlock ignored him completely.

"Why won't you let me conduct my experiment?" He said, as if they had been talking about that all along.

"What?" John often found it hard to keep up with Sherlock's sudden topic changes.

"You heard me," The shivers were getting more violent now, racking Sherlock's whole body with harsh shudders.

"Yes but I don't know which experiment you're talking about. You have lots of experiments you wish to conduct that I won't allow you because they would probably result in one of us being poisoned or the house being burned down," John knew exactly which experiment Sherlock was referring to but didn't particularly want to tell Sherlock why it's not normal to share a bed with your male flatmate when you are completely straight.

"The sleeping experiment, John, do try to keep up," Sherlock snapped, his voice scathing. "It's hardly going to end up in the house being burned down, is it? I don't understand why you object-,"

"I object because I would rather you didn't invade my privacy any more than you already do," John cut across him, "which is a lot. I think I deserve a few hours every night of privacy so I can actually get some sleep without feeling uncomfortable,"

"My bed is just as comfortable as yours," Sherlock had stopped pacing now and was staring at John, a thoroughly confused look on his face. "In fact it is probably more comfortable. I don't see why-,"

"You know that isn't what I mean,"

"You mean it would make you uncomfortable sharing a bed with me? Why? We've shared a bed before," Sherlock stopped pacing to look at John confusedly. "You didn't object then. In fact you seemed rather content when you woke up," There was a small puddle forming at Sherlock's feet now as the water dripped off his coat and onto the wooden floor.

"That was different, Sherlock. I am not talking to you about this right now. For god's sake go and take a shower and put some warm clothes on or you really will catch a cold," Sherlock made to object but John cut across him, "GO, Sherlock. We can talk about this later but I don't want to have to look after you if you get sick. You already act like a child half the time, I don't want to know what you're like when you're ill,"

Sherlock stood glaring at John for a few seconds before pushing his sodden coat off his shoulders and allowing it to drop to the floor in a wet heap before flouncing off in the direction of the bathroom.

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**Thank you for reading! Reviewers get free unicorn rides! :3**


	4. Persuasion

**Hello! I'm back from my holiday, I wrote three chapters and edited the previous one while I was away so as soon as the other two are edited I should be putting those up too.**

**Words: about 2000**

* * *

Sherlock had been acting strangely all week, he was being much warmer and more helpful towards John, not snapping at him or telling him he's an idiot. He made tea for John and even did the washing up occasionally. There were no experiments cluttering the table or in the fridge and when there wasn't a case, Sherlock acted like a normal human being rather than going completely insane.

It was almost as if he was trying to be as different from how he normally was as possible. This did not go unnoticed by John. He had no idea why Sherlock was acting so strangely, or normally, depending on how you look at it.

When Sherlock came back one day carrying three bags of groceries (four cartons of milk, a loaf of bread and two bottles of vinegar – for an experiment, John expected; there was no way he could go much longer without one to keep him occupied without losing his mind) John finally had to ask.

"Sherlock, are you alright?"

Sherlock paused trying to squeeze the four cartons of milk into the door that was designed to hold two and turned to face John, "Yes John I'm perfectly fine, why?"

"You're being…weird," Sherlock looked like he was trying very hard not to roll his eyes at this. "You're being helpful and…"

"What, would you rather I wasn't helpful?"

"No, I just…" Realization dawned on him. "Sherlock is this about the experiment again? You're trying to butter me up aren't you?"

Sherlock sighed in defeat. "Well what else am I supposed to do?" He slammed the fridge door shut behind him, almost for emphasis.

"I said no, for god's sake respect my answer will you?"

Of course, Sherlock didn't respect this answer. It wasn't an answer he liked so he simply disregarded it and treated it as a _maybe_ or _yes, go ahead_, as if there was a way to get John to agree to take part that he just hadn't found yet.

So far Sherlock had tried to get John to let him conduct the experiment with bribery, hunger strike, tantrums and blackmail. One time he even tried lying on the floor outside John's bedroom door and not moving a muscle, not even to get up and eat, but after three days of John completely ignoring him and simply stepping over him, he gave up and had to think up a new tactic.

* * *

So instead of doing what John wanted him to and giving up on his experiment, Sherlock simply went ahead with it. First he would need information about how they were both sleeping before they attempted to sleep together anyway so he could get that before John even agreed to take part. He wouldn't know.

When Sherlock actually slept, he recorded information about the quality of sleep, whether or not he dreamt (usually not), how long he slept for, where he slept and why (tiredness, boredom, John forcing him to, his body simply shutting down) etc.

He also recorded information on Johns sleeping pattern. He recorded how often he slept, (a ridiculous amount; almost every night) how long for and the quality of his sleep which was apparent from how much he tossed and turned and how well rested or not he was in the morning.

About an hour after John went upstairs to his room at night, Sherlock would creep up and watch him sleep; taking notes in a small black notebook before tiptoeing back downstairs and hiding it before John woke up and came downstairs.

Several times John had nightmares, probably about Afghanistan. He thrashed around in his bed, covered in a light sheen of sweat and moaning, sometimes shouting, crying out desperately. Sherlock hated these nights. But he didn't comfort John. It would affect his experiment and mean that John would know that he was watching him sleep which he probably would have been angry about.

Sherlock would instead sit outside John's room on the landing and wait until the thrashing and moaning stopped. He would sometimes hear John sobbing afterwards, trying to calm himself down but he didn't interrupt him. John would probably want to be alone anyway.

* * *

At some point Sherlock managed to delete the information all together about John not wanting to take part in his experiment. He seemed to have given up giving Sherlock his thought out reasons as to why he didn't want to take part in the experiment and simply walked away from Sherlock when he tried to persuade him. It was almost like dealing with a small child who is being purposefully irritating just to get attention; ignore them for long enough and they'll get bored and give up.

Sherlock was sitting at the kitchen table holding a pipette of something when John walked in to grab a cold beer out of the fridge to drink while he was watching crap telly.

"I'll be conducting the experiment in your bedroom as it will make you feel more comfortable as it is more familiar to you so as not to make you uncomfortable. I doubt the change in environment will make much difference to me and you being as relaxed as possible is vital to the experiment,"

"No."

John opened the bottle and took a swig and walked from the room as if nothing had happened.

Sherlock didn't seem at all fazed.

* * *

The next time this happened they were at a crime scene. Sherlock had finished his examination of the body. He stood up and spoke as if they had been talking about it the whole time and they hadn't been interrupted in their conversation by two days and a string of murders.

"We should use a set time to go to sleep then measure how long we sleep for before waking up on the days neither of us have to get up early for work, we can also measure how easy it is to wake up early for work on the days it's necessary. The arranged time should be flexible though, if we feel like going to bed earlier or later then that could be important information,"

"No."

John walked past Sherlock to do his examination of the body, again acting as if Sherlock hadn't said anything more to him than _take a look_.

* * *

However hard he tried, Sherlock couldn't focus on the case. By a usual persons standards being focussed on the case for about half an hour at a time before being interrupted in his thoughts by John and his experiment would have been amazingly focussed, especially as he made it through the night, thinking, eyes closed, lying down without falling asleep. But no. This was Sherlock's standards and by Sherlock's standards he was unfocussed and that had to stop.

He couldn't work out why it was distracting him so much. Usually experiments could be put on hold for cases, unless they were relevant, without a second thought. He wondered if it was because it was because it involved John. Possibly, but he had used John in experiments before. It could be because it involved him too. Still unlikely. He tested himself in experiments all the time and they never affected him like this. Then what?

There was a possibility, however small, that this was to do with emotions. _His emotions. _The ones he shut down years ago. But why would they resurface now for a little experiment like this? It wasn't even an experiment to do with emotions; it was to do with sleep quality. Why should that distract him so much?

Sherlock needed to investigate this further but he wouldn't be able to do that without actually being able to conduct the sleep experiment. He was sure that if he just carried on telling John what the experiment would be like then he would stop thinking it was such a big deal and just let Sherlock get on with it. He couldn't see what the problem was in the first place really but he was sure it was just something as stupid as not wanting everyone to think he was gay. Even though they already did.

.oOo.

Sherlock continued with the conversation the next day; again just picking up the conversation where they had left off and expecting John to keep up, while they were in the murderer's house and had just seen his car pull onto the drive.

"the experiment will take place over the course of four weeks, one week before we sleep together, two weeks together to optimise results and then one week afterwards to see if it has made any change to our regular sleeping patterns,"

"No."

John hurled himself through the door, gun held out in front of him out in front of him.

"I wouldn't if I were you,"

The man dropped the baseball bat he had been holding and raised his hands to shoulder level where Sherlock grabbed them and handcuffed him with the handcuffs he had "borrowed" from Lestrade when he wasn't looking.

* * *

When the returned home John hung his coat up, yawning, and headed up the stairs, calling "Night, Sherl," over his shoulder.

Sherlock followed him up the stairs and to his bedroom like they did that every night. When John reached his room he went in and swung the door shut behind him.

A muffled "No." came from the other side of the door.

Sherlock glared at the door then retreated downstairs in defeat and threw himself down onto the sofa, hands pressed together under his chin, eyes closed. Anyone who didn't know Sherlock would think him asleep and wonder why he didn't just go to his room. Anyone who knew him would think he was in his mind palace or something like that trying to solve the case. John Watson would have noticed the tiny crease that appeared as Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows slightly in frustration and wonder what was wrong.

* * *

That was how John found him the next morning, Sherlock seemingly having not moved at all. He hadn't even changed out of his suit from yesterday. His jacket had been discarded on the coffee table and he was lying on the sofa in his tight white shirt, hands pressed together under his chin as always.

"When would it would be best to start the experiment? It would be no good if you were to go swanning off to see your sister or something equally as pointless halfway through." Sherlock didn't even turn his head to indicate that he was speaking to John and not just to himself or to the room in general, "Though it would be interesting to compare before and after a break, maybe I should test more fields-"

"No." John called from the kitchen where he was making tea and toast Sherlock probably wouldn't eat. "Why are you still on the sofa?" He poked his head around the door to look at Sherlock, who still hadn't opened his eyes. "The case is over; there isn't anything else to figure out. You should have gone to bed,"

"Thinking."

"What about?" When Sherlock didn't reply John shook his head and went to finish making their breakfast. He emerged a few moments later carrying his tea in one hand and two plates of toast in the other, rather skilfully if you asked him. "Breakfast, Sherl." Sherlock sighed but swung his feet off the sofa to join John at the table.

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**Thank you for reading! Reviews make me edit faster ;)**


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